


Why is Derek crying?

by Jalec



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2418152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jalec/pseuds/Jalec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stumbles upon Derek in the loft, who he thinks is crying. Comforting and a sort-of (as much as Stiles can muster) inspiration speech ensues. Post-S4 one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why is Derek crying?

"Derek?"

Stiles had come to the loft to tell Derek about some progress he and the others had made in regards to the Desert Wolf. A lead, down in Mexico that the others were going to follow up.

What he wasn't expecting to see was Derek hunched over the side of his bed, looking like he was crying. He couldn't see Derek's face for the dim lighting of the loft combined with the fact that it was almost dark outside. Derek's face was on an angle looking in the opposite direction to Stiles, but he was pretty confident that he  _was_ crying, especially when he heard a light sniffle and Derek's arm moved to his face like he was wiping it.

"Derek, are you okay?" Stiles's tone is one of legitimate concern. He had never seen Derek cry, except once, when the twins killed Boyd with his claws, but even then he only noticed him shed a few tears.

When Derek doesn't respond, Stiles closes the large barn door, which was wide open when he arrived, and moves over to Derek's bed. He sits next to the wolf and goes to grabs his arm when Derek yanks it away.

"What, Stiles?" He sounds mad. His eyes are visibly puffy despite him turning his face away from Stiles. He  _has_ been crying, but he's not letting on. He doesn't want Stiles to know? Why? Does he think the boy will see it as a sign of weakness? No, of course Stiles wouldn't. If anybody has reason to be sad and angry, it's Derek Hale, the man who lost most of his family in a fire, and those who he has left are either not here, or are too self-involved to care about him. Stiles knows this.

"Hey," Stiles starts out with a sympathetic tone, not an annoyed one that most people would respond with if they were acknowledged in such a hostile manner. "Are you okay?" He repeats.

"I'm fine," Derek snaps back, running his fist over his eye to try and wipe a tear away in a more 'manly' fashion.

When Derek goes to stand up, Stiles grabs his arm and pulls himself up too. He holds onto Derek's arm to stop him from moving further away. Derek considers ripping his arm free of Stiles's grip. Before he can, Stiles starts to speak, this time with more of a tone that signifies annoyance in his voice.

"You're not okay. You were crying, Derek."

"Stiles, I wasn–"

"Derek, you were! I saw you when I walked in!"

Both of them are standing within a few inches of each other like they could come to blows any second, but then Derek looks down, right back into Stiles's eyes which he has purposefully been avoiding, and he lets out a sigh because he sees _something_ in them which causes him to sit back down on the bed and buries his face in his hands.

Stiles doesn't sit. He moves himself so that he is in front of Derek. He leans down so that he is squatting. He's below Derek's sitting line of sight, which is good because Derek's head is still resting in his hands. Stiles can see his eyes through slightly parted fingers. They're closed, but tears are beginning to swell in their corners.

"Derek, you can tell me," he says as he puts a hand on one of Derek's knees.

There's a few moments' silence as Stiles waits patiently for an answer. One that he doesn't want to rush Derek for.

When Derek finally does go to speak, and removes his face from the cradle of his strong hands, he looks up. Tears have parted obvious lines down his face where dirt and soot from the dusty environment of the loft used to be. His eyes are red and every so often his lip will quiver when he speaks.

"I can't do it anymore, Stiles. I... I just can't do... _this_."

Stiles sighs as he moves from his squatting position to one where he is sitting on the bed next to Derek. He puts a tender arm around Derek's shoulders.

"I know what you mean," he says as he examines the floor in front of him, hoping he'll find an answer or what to say next in the dirt.

"You don't have to hide this, Derek."

He remembers Ethan telling him about the speech Derek gave him and Aiden on the night Allison was killed. Derek's always so good with speeches. He always knows what to say...or do...or be. Stiles doesn't, though. If it's not sarcastic then he thinks himself no good at whatever it is, but for Derek he knows he has to try.

"You don't have to hide this, Derek," he reaffirms. "You don't have to hide how you feel. We all needs breaks. You've been there for Scott and Lydia and me everybody else from the beginning. We come to you when we need help and you always – you hear me? _Always –_ find the time and energy to help us, even when we probably don't deserve it." He sighs as he grabs Derek's shoulders in both hands and turns him so that they are looking each other in the eyes. "We've all lost someone, Derek. But...you..." His voice trails off as he doesn't know whether what he's about to say will help or make everything worse. "You've lost the most of all of us. Your parents and your sisters, other people you've loved. Peter, now, too." Tears begin to swell in Derek's eyes once more. He tries to look away but Stiles runs his hands from Derek's large shoulder up over his neck until they rest on his cheeks where he holds Derek's face securely in his hands. "Even the strongest of people need and deserve breaks." With a smile, he adds, "And you're the strongest person I know."

Derek is able to muster a little laugh as he sniffs again. Stiles and heartfelt don't really mix. Or they haven't, until now.

"You can go somewhere, Der. You can just get out of Beacon Hills for a little while. Take a break, go to... I don't know, a beach. Find some cute blonde thing and just forget about all of this for a little while. Nobody will be able to blame you. And if they try, they'll have to deal with me."

This time Derek's laugh sounds more characteristic of Stiles's laugh.

"Blondes aren't really my type," he says through a laugh as he wipes his cheeks, smudging the tear lines so they're less noticeable. "And skinny, defenceless Stiles defending me. I am honoured, although not entirely convinced how effective that'd be."

He's smiling now. As rare as seeing Derek cry is, seeing him smile is an even rarer treasure that people don't usually get to witness.

Ignoring everything that came after 'my type', Stiles queries Derek as he points to his own hair with a comedic look on his face. "Brunettes?"

Derek nods and smiles. "Yea, brunettes," then he cocks his head and his expression turns from one of jest to something serious.

Stiles expects him to look away because they've been staring at each other intently for a few seconds, but he doesn't. Instead his eyes stay firmly fixated on Stiles's. The boy's hand falls from the air as he gets caught up in the magnetism the pair seems to be producing. He lets out a weak " _Oh_ " as Derek's expression narrows and his whole body moves closer to Stiles's. _  
_

When they're only inches away from each other and Stiles can feel Derek's hot and heavy breath on his lips, he goes to speak but only odd murmurs and something that could be interpreted as either moan, a sigh, or a squeak escapes his mouth; the same mouth that is soon locked with Derek's.

Their first kiss breaks after a few delectable moments.

Derek begins to speak in a low voice that is a mix of something sultry and something honest and thankful. "Thank you, Stiles." He pauses for a moment. "And I don't think I want to go alone.  _We_ should go.  _Us_."

Stiles looks up at him. He's barely regained his composure, but he is able to speak...just.

"Good thing grumpy, hot guys with black hair and..." He lets out a weak murmur-come-cough-come-moan as Derek's stubble brushes up against his lips. Derek wants another kiss. "...Stubble..." He shudders at the sensation. "...Are mine."


End file.
